


ASBH Febuwhump

by Drxxmingofblue, Loki_The_Mad



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 17,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drxxmingofblue/pseuds/Drxxmingofblue, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_The_Mad/pseuds/Loki_The_Mad
Summary: Using a list of whump prompts for every day of February! They may not all be out by the end of February, but they'll all be out eventually. Based on my work, ASBH
Comments: 14
Kudos: 5





	1. Basic Guide

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [After the Storm, Before the Hurricane](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24057970) by [Drxxmingofblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drxxmingofblue/pseuds/Drxxmingofblue), [Loki_The_Mad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_The_Mad/pseuds/Loki_The_Mad). 



Welcome to Februwhump: ASBH version 2021! My writing partner will be going off a list of prompts that I'll add here after we complete the challenge, as we might change some. 

For now, a guide to the AUs we'll be using- these are subject to change as well. The corresponding letter will be added to the chapter title so you can skip to the ones you'd rather read. 

##### AU

| 

##### Basic Description

| 

##### Letter  
  
---|---|---  
  
Canon Verse

| 

Canon events of ASBH have taken place up to this point. Chapter itself may or may not be canon. 

| 

C  
  
Canon Verse, Not Canon

| 

Canon events of ASBH have taken place up to this point. Chapter itself is not canon. 

| 

C≠  
  
Reverse AU

| 

Marion is a villain, Greyson is a hero

| 

R  
  
Marionnette AU

| 

Corvid succeeds in breaking Marion in 

| 

M  
  
Sidekick Grey AU 

| 

In which Greyson is accepted by the NHU, but he’s on thin ice. Blue may or may not be a villain

| 

S  
  
Various AUs

| 

AUs created for a specific prompt

| 

V  
  
Post ASBH 

| 

Post After the Storm, Before the Hurricane

| 

P  
  
  
*all AUs are subject to change based on prompt 


	2. Day 1: (C≠) Mind Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue. Enough said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one doesn't have much drama, but it's not the worst way to kick this off. I'm suddenly very excited for the rest of the month!
> 
> -Loki

Rita told him yesterday that he’d been here for 3 weeks. The day before, she told him that it’d been a month and a half. Of course, that was only his estimate. He had no idea how long ago anything happened anymore.

All he knew was that her efforts weren’t working, and she was getting impatient.  _ Luther is expecting results,  _ she’d hissed in his ear, his whole body alight with one torture or another. He thought maybe that time was the candle wax, but he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore. 

Her impatience was constant, now, though. She needed something new. Something different. 

So she brought Marion in. 

Well, not Marion, as he’d find a moment later. Not Marion.  _ Blue.  _ Greyson didn’t like Blue. No one but the  _ police  _ seemed to like Blue, and even that was rocky sometimes. 

Blue could make him see things that weren’t there, all sorts of things. His  _ reactions  _ to those things were what they wanted.

Rita stepped out of the little white room to watch from behind the one-way window. The room was empty, save for the two. No bed, nothing. Just Greyson and Blue.

The hero started small. He conjured a blanket around Greyson’s shoulders- he could feel it brush against his bare arms- that didn’t retain any heat.   
  
Greyson squeezed his eyes shut, startled to find that it didn’t change anything he saw. He couldn’t hide from it. 

“I… I’m not scared of you…” he whispered. “My name is Greyson Calva. Marion is coming for me. He loves me.” Blue scoffed.

“You can cut the crap, Corvid. He’s back to work- same as always. He’s been taking  _ more  _ shifts, even. He’s not looking for you, he’s distracting himself.”

“I don’t believe you.” 

“That’s fine. To be fair, you shouldn’t believe anything I say or do. Although… I would call myself the most trustworthy person in the room.”

“There’s only two of us.”

“And you’re  _ hardly  _ the epitome of honesty, dear villain.” He sounded  _ bored.  _ “Let’s get started, shall we?”

  
  


Greyson sat in front of himself. A carbon copy of himself, in his suit, minus the mask. Every detail, down to the most minute. Greyson- the real one- startled back. He looked around the room. Blue was gone.   
  
“Do you really find me so hideous that you think I’d be scared of my own face? Honestly, Blue, I’m offended.”   
  
The illusion spoke.   
  
“My face isn’t  _ that  _ scary. Those freak eyes could use some fixing, but I’d call us good looking.”

“Now that’s just egotistical. Or do you have a little crush, Blue?” Greyson pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall. Someone he couldn’t see kicked him in the back of the knees. Alright, no standing then. 

“Do you remember the fights, Greyson?” 

The real one didn’t respond.    
  
“Do you remember how you wrecked him, your precious little hero? I bet you do. I bet you knew where every scar came from, when you finally got his shirt off.”   
  


“You can’t torture me with this.” Greyson mumbled from the corner. “This is just Tuesday.” 

  
The illusion-him huffed. “I wasn’t  _ done. _ ” 

“Even pretending to be me, you just can’t keep yourself from being a little shit, can you?”    
  
This time, the kick landed on his ribs, and another figure was laying next to illusion-Greyson.   
  
Marion. He didn’t look like he had after the last fight- the wounds were in the wrong places, and there was too much blood. Clearly, Blue hadn’t seen Marion after it.    
  
It still hurt to see him like this, though. Even if he knew it wasn’t real. Illusion-him stood up, and all Greyson could do was watch as the illusion’s foot pressed over Marion’s sternum and pushed.

Sickening crack after sickening crack echoed in his ears. Marion whimpered, and it only kind of sounded like him, but it still ached to hear. Greyson didn’t protest- he knew, if he did, they’d know it was working. Instead, he leaned his head on his hand.    
  
“I did shit worse than this when I had him.” He said, with a bored tone that sounded too fake to his ears. “That's all you got? Torturing my boyfriend?” 

“Would you rather I torture you?”    
  
“You already do. You’re  _ me.  _ You can’t do anything to me that I haven’t already thought of myself doing. Checkmate, sucker.” Although he knew illusion-him could very well do something that Greyson hadn’t already thought of, being controlled by Blue, he really was just grasping at straws by this point.    
  
The scene before him morphed into something else. Marion, again, this time unharmed. There was a gag pushed between his lips. Luther held a gun to his temple. 

“You can’t kill him until I give you my work. You still need him.” 

“Oh, I’m sure we could find  _ someone  _ more powerful.” 

“But you don’t want to.” 

“There is only so far I’m willing to let you throw your tantrum, SV35.” 

The gun went off. Blood splattered all over the walls. Greyson disguised his gasp with a sigh.    
  
“Fuck it.” Blue was back. “Pull me out.” He said to the glass. “Let’s try something else.” 

  
  


The next time he was locked in the tank, his hallucinations were far more vivid, and much, much worse. 


	3. Day 2: (C) "I can't take this anymore"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greyson snaps after Marion hasn’t visited him for just a bit too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little earlier than the last one, and not quite as long. I'm saying this is canon cause we never clarified what happened between Marion's first visit and Marion breaking Grey out.
> 
> -Loki

Greyson still had the letter Marion gave him, tucked into the cover of  _ Eragon. _

_ For the book nerd- _

_ Hope you slept well. I'm gonna be gone for a few days. _

_ There's baddies to catch, hands to shake, babies to kiss! _

_ Hope this is good to keep your mind occupied. _

_ When I get back I expect a thirty page book report. Haha! _

_ Take care of yourself. -M. _

Now, he knew that those several-day gaps were a regular thing. He couldn’t exactly blame Marion for it- the hero had far more important things to worry about than entertaining an incarcerated villain.

Things like, well… being a hero. Marion was still  _ doing  _ that. Four months after Greyson had broken him down to his bare bones. The second he was healed enough, he was just… back up and running. Like a machine.    
  
No wonder Luther loved him so much.    
  
But that left very little time for visits- Greyson saw him twice a week, if he was lucky. The rest of the time was pacing the cell (Marion had asked him to stop doing that- it was hurting his feet) or sleeping. He’d started eating again, but that was a scarce comfort. 

It’d been almost a week and a half since he’d last seen Marion. In that time, he’d reread the three books he had in the Inheritance Cycle (Marion had yet to get him the fourth) and paced almost 500 laps around the small room. His questions to the nurses were as fruitless as ever. No one would tell him what was going on.    
  
Maybe Marion was just busy.

Maybe he was gravely injured. 

Maybe it was something worse altogether, something he didn’t want to think about. 

He was breaking down, though, bit by bit. 

The nurses didn’t talk to him. They talked  _ at  _ him. They didn’t care if he wanted to listen or not. They didn’t care about him. He was alone

  
  


Greyson was curled around his pillow on the 11th day since Marion had last visited. He kept track only by the way the lights dimmed at night, and his meals. (Marion had given him an alarm clock, but he had no reference to set it, and nowhere to plug it in.) 

_ Those  _ thoughts had started to set in. Marion wasn’t going to come back, ever. Marion was done with him. Marion had given up on him. Marion was  _ watching,  _ from the cameras, and he didn’t want to see him in person ever again.

His pillow was half-soaked with tears, now. His hands itched to tear at his skin just so he could feel  _ something  _ other than this sorrow. Marion had asked him not to anymore, though. 

But if Marion never came back, he’d never see it. 

Greyson’s hands dug into his pillow instead

  
  


The lock on the door clicked. Footsteps, too heavy to belong to of his nurses’. 

A little chuckle. “Pretending that’s me again? It’s alright, I’m here.” 

Greyson shot up and spun around. His hair stuck to his damp cheeks, and his eyes were red and puffy. “Marion-” he breathed.

“Whoa, okay. It’s okay. I’m here, it’s alright.”   
  
Marion wore a worn leather jacket- sometimes he let Greyson wear it, when he was here- and carried a thick, green book under his arm. The last one Greyson needed to complete the series.

  
He didn’t see it, not really. All he saw was Marion. 

The hero rushed into the room, setting the book down on the end of the bed and moving to sit next to him. Greyson collapsed onto his chest, trying desperately to keep his crying from turning into sobbing.”

“Hey- okay, okay… that was too long, I won’t be gone that long again, okay?” 

Greyson didn’t hear him. His arms wrapped around his ribs and held on like a child gripping their teddy bear. 

“I can’t  _ do  _ this anymore, Marion. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” 

“Hey, it’s  _ okay.  _ I’m right here, you’re okay, alright? I’m not going to do that to you again.”

“You have to get me out of here, Marion, you have to…”

“I’m… I’m working on it. Just have to hold on a little longer.”

“How long is  _ a little longer?”  _

“I don’t know yet.” Greyson huffed and buried himself deeper in Marion’s jacket. 

  
  


_ A little longer  _ turned out to be another month. And after what happened after… Well, Greyson would have preferred to stay in the facility. 


	4. Day 3: (R) Imprisonment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marion wants to test out a new little trick he's discovered. Who better than the valiant hero?

In Jacob’s defense, she’d caught him off-guard.

That damn chameleon of a woman had looked  _ exactly  _ like his team’s doctor. ‘Charlie’ had told him it was morphine in that drip bag.

Jacob had been too dreary with blood loss to remember that the NHU never used morphine unless it was absolutely necessary. 

He’d woken up with the headache that he always got from sedatives, in a bare-bones cell. The bitch hadn’t even bothered to put him in the cot- just dumped him on the floor. His shoulders ached with stiffness.   
  
“I’d insult you, but in your defense, I don’t think you could lift me onto the bed if you tried.

The woman in front of his cell- who still looked like his team’s doctor- scoffed.

“I had the guards drag you back. They put you there on purpose.”

“Lovely…” 

He dragged himself over to the cot and collapsed on it face-first. 

“When’s tall, dark, and evil supposed to show his face?” 

“He’s busy. It’ll be a while.” 

Jacob buried his face in the pillow. It smelled of blood and the hydrogen peroxide used to clean the blood out. To be honest, he was surprised at his own tranquility. He’d been captured by Euclidi, the one hero who probably hated him more than anyone else in this city, but all he really cared about was a good nap, in a good bed.    
  
His wounds were mostly gone. At least, he couldn’t feel the throbbing pain. Knowing Miss Chameleon, though, she probably only healed enough to keep him from dying. She probably made sure it’d scar up nicely. 

Euclidi had always seemed to like the idea of scarring him up- not that he’d ever seen the marks, but he knew they were there. Maybe that’d be the first thing he’d do, when he got there. 

“Can I ask you something sorta cliche?” He murmured as he shifted onto his side.   
  
“No, but you’re going to ask anyway, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Why do you work for him?”

“I don’t work  _ for  _ him, I work  _ with  _ him.”   
  
“You don’t get any of the credit.”   
  
“And I don’t have a nemesis because of it.”   
  


“Is it because he’s threatening you?”

“If anything, I’m threatening him.”

“Does he have your parents?”

“No.”

“Little sister?”

“Nope.” She popped the ‘P’. 

“Partner? Pet dog? _ A fish? _ ”

“He’s not threatening me.”

“...says the one most  _ definitely  _ being threatened.”

“One more word and I’m going to  _ threaten you  _ by sticking a bullet in your mouth.”

“Oh, but if you do that, he’ll kill your true love.” Jacob mocked. She didn’t respond, so he shifted on the cot again.

“Can I have a pillow?”

“You’ve got one.”

“And it’s the very first object in existence to be two-dimensional.”

“Suck it up.”

Jacob stood and padded towards the door. Placing his hands flat on its surface, he heated it to the highest temperature he could manage. 

“That’s tungsten. Highest melting point on planet earth- you’re not getting out of here any time soon.”

“Of course it is... “ He leaned against the now-scalding metal door.

“What does he want now? Just to watch me rot here? Is it entertaining for him or something?”

“You’ve been awake for  _ 15 goddamn minutes _ and you’ve been talking through all of them. Shut  _ up.” _

“When is he going to get back?”   
  


“You do realize that he’s probably going to hurt you, right?”

“More interesting than talking to the brick wall imitating my doctor. And I wouldn’t mind staring at that ass.”

“You’re insufferable.” He grinned, at that.

“I’m told that’s what makes me an effective hero.”

  
She pulled her gun from its holster on her belt and aimed it at his head, through the little glass window on the door. 

“ _ Alright,  _ alright, I got the message. You can put the glock down.” He turned to collapse on the cot again.

  
  


Jacob drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, half-asleep, when he heard the footsteps. He knew them well- only one person in this building would be stupid enough to wear  _ heels  _ to work. But then again, only one person in this building could fly at will. That he knew of.

Jacob looked up from where he leaned over the edge of the bed, upside down, just as he walked in, with his stupid cape and his stupid boots and his stupid lips. 

“You got me. Congratulations.” He drawled. “I do hope you’re not planning on  _ monologuing.  _ Just… torture me or whatever. Put me out of my damn misery. Or just leave me here- that shapeshifting son of a bitch is torture enough.” 

Euclidi laughed.

Said son of a bitch snorted from outside of the door. 

“I wanted to test something. I thought you’d be a good little guinea pig.” 

“Fucking. Superb. What’s this mysterious ‘something?’” Jacob sat up.   
  
“Well, let’s put it this way… I could destroy your life as a hero. Forever.” Jacob’s eyes widened. He wasn’t stupid- but he was stubborn. There were four things that could stop his life as a hero

  1. He died
  2. He went missing
  3. He was too injured to keep going
  4. He lost his powers



Number 4 wasn’t the worst outcome, but he doubted that was what he was getting.

“What, you gonna make me a double amputee? Blow my arm off? Slam me against a wall ‘till I’ve got brain damage?” 

Again, the villain before him laughed. It unsettled him.

“No, I’m not going to ruin your life. Just your life as a hero.” 

“You’d be doing me a favor, sweetheart. How’d you figure it out?”

“Cell modification on a molecular level.”

“I see… and what happens after?” 

“Well, I’m not going to throw out my favorite play toy. Not like  _ they  _ would.” 

“Hmph.”

Jacob couldn’t think of anything else to say. His life as a hero really  _ would  _ be over. Then what? Would Euclidi torture him to death? Execute him? Let him go?”

  
  


“...Are you ready?”

“...As I’ll ever be. You gotta let me touch you when you’re done, though.”

“Why?” 

“First ever human contact, or some shit. I want to see what it’s like before you kill me.”

“...Ah. Give me your hand.”

And Euclidi held his out. 


	5. Day 4: (C≠) Time Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greyson finds himself disoriented, nauseous, and in his base. The one that got destroyed by the biggest propane explosion New York City had ever seen. A body that is missing the marks made by his dear lover. A body that kills with little more than the snap of a finger. He finds Marion in the cell where he left him, before… before the end, and the beginning of something new. How does he secure Marion’s trust to keep himself from suffering at the hands of Rita Fennel, and Marion suffering from his naive trust towards the NHU?

This isn’t the first time Greyson has woken up, disoriented, at his desk. The problem is that this shouldn’t be the last time- the last time he should have woken up at the desk in the base that doesn’t exist anymore was right before… right before The Final Fight.

And yet, here he is. Sat in an office chair ( _ his  _ office chair.) Spinning absentmindedly. Trying to puzzle out just how he was here.

Was he dreaming? He’d had awfully vivid dreams before. This wouldn’t be the first. 

But they were never  _ like  _ this. Maybe this was a new one, a worse one.

“Soldier!” He called, his back to the door where one of his guards should’ve been stationed.

“Yes, sir?”

“What’s the date?”

“February 2nd, sir.” 

He knew that date. Technically, it had been after midnight when he was arrested on the 3rd so this… this was right before. 

Abruptly, he scrambled forward to check the cameras. The last he’d seen this screen, it’d been blinking, with most of the cameras knocked out.

Now, he could see Marion- his beautiful, loveable Marion- mostly unconscious in his cell. Bleeding. Dying. 

In four hours, he would wake up, and realize he had his powers back, and he would destroy everything.    
  
In four months, he’d be bringing Greyson gifts and that infectious smile. 

Greyson had four hours. He could let things play out the way they were meant to- he could bring his Marion back to him, the way he’d had him, and be tortured for it.

Greyson didn’t know if he’d ever be going back to the present- or future- or whatever it was. He’d have to go off the basis that he wouldn’t, that he was stuck in this timeline- until then. 

Or he could tell Marion the truth, potentially sacrifice their love, but keep his Marion safe. 

His heart knew the answer before his brain had reached it. 

Greyson stood up. His cape swished behind him, and nearly startled him. He… he wasn’t used to it anymore. He wasn’t used to his gloves, or his mask, or his suit.

He wasn’t used to the familiar fire coursing through his veins again. 

Greyson ran down the hall. His guards gave him confused, and worried looks. Corvid didn’t  _ run.  _

He stopped right outside Marion’s cell.    
  
“Go-go get the nurse. And a change of clothes for him. And be quick about it!”

The guard outside the cell hurried off as Greyson stepped in.    
  
He was even worse in person. Breaths ragged, clothes tattered and burned. He knew all of the marks by heart, had traced over them too many times to count. He  _ hated  _ them like this.

He tugged his gloves off before he remembered that this version of him couldn’t touch Marion. Instead, he pulled them back on before he picked up Marion, gentler than the hero had probably ever gotten from him up to this point.    
  
Greyson carried Marion back to his apartments and set him down on the bed. Already, there was blood soaked into the sheets. 

Greyson settled for pulling Marion’s head into his lap and stroking his hair until the nurse found him.

“All his wounds. All of them. I want them bandaged to your best ability. Let me know if anything needs cauterized.”

The nurse nodded grimly and set to work stitching and cleaning and making Marion whole again. Greyson dismissed them once they were done. 

Then it was just him and Marion. 

Greyson was sat on the edge of the bed, breathless for a moment as everything started to set in. There were so many possibilities,  _ too many  _ possibilities. He wanted to sit down and map everything out and make sure things happened  _ exactly  _ the way they should.    
  
He couldn’t. That would take too much time, and by the time he was done, Marion would have long since woken up and thrown a wrench in everything. The most he could do was.... Explain himself, in full, when Marion woke up, and hope for the best. 

He stepped out of the room to grab a cup of water for Marion. Then make him a cup of tea. Then realize that Marion probably wouldn’t trust him enough to drink the tea, so he left it on the counter and went back into the room.    
  
Marion was supposed to wake up sometime around 1:15 on the third, but Greyson would guess sooner, now that he wasn’t bleeding freely, and he was on a blood transfusion. 

And he was right. Marion’s eyes blinked open at 11:47, and Greyson watched from his chair next to him as he realized that he wasn’t drugged out of his mind, anymore. That he could think.    
  
Greyson had already thought about what he would say. It’d have to be something that couldn’t be found in any file, or from DNA testing. It had to be something  _ Marion  _ told him.

“Your name is Marion Arturo Joel Giovanni.” His mask sat on the nightstand, and he’d exchanged his suit for sweatpants and a hoodie. He still wore the gloves.    
  
“You have an apartment near the coast, somewhere. You take hookups there when you get drunk and need to unwind.”    
  
Marion’s expression went through hatred and fear and a sort of morbid curiosity all at once. Greyson knew his face well enough to know that even with the visor up.    
  
“Give me thirty seconds before you try to arrest me. You like to cook- you learned it from your mom. She’s italian, born and raised. You import your hair gel from Malibu.”

“I- how-”

“ _ Listen  _ to me, Marion. I am going to tell you the truth.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES the date of Greyson's arrest is canon- that was a lovely coincidence.


	6. Day 5: (S) "Take me instead"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a hero means protecting your own, and paying the price that comes with it. But when a particularly nasty run in with a not-so-well meaning vigilante leaves his sidekick on an unavoidable countdown, Marion is given an ultimatum that will test the limits of his loyalties.

-.-. --- -. ..-. .. .-. -- . -..

The morse code beeped through Marion’s com system. He paid close attention to translate.

Confirmed. 

His sidekick had visual, then, and he’d communicated that with the button embedded in his gloves, so he wouldn’t have to speak and chance revealing himself. 

This was far from the first stealth mission they’d been on together. Or rather, Greyson had been on, and Marion had been signaled when he needed to break in and arrest whoever it was they were after.

This time, it was a self-proclaimed vigilante that fit better into the anti-hero category who went by the name of Misshot. She had destroyed several NHU facilities- mostly safe points for supers with nowhere else to go- so they had to be taken down. 

The little tracking mark showing Greyson’s location in the abandoned apartment building blinked on the screen on Marion’s wrist. He watched as Greyson checked each room one by one. Misshot should be in one of them, surely, and probably asleep around this time in the afternoon, given that she was active all night and a good part of the morning. 

As Greyson quietly pushed the door open to the last room on this floor, Marion realized something was… off. The last three floors had only had 8 rooms. This one had 10. There was something under the room Greyson was about to enter.

“Corvid- wait-!”

His cry was too little, too late. She’d been waiting just behind the door.

Something slammed into his skull. His whole head felt like it was vibrating, then he was out. 

Marion was on his feet in half a second. He didn’t bother slipping in through the fire escape window, like Greyson had.

In short, the brick wall of one of the rooms on the second level was closer to gravel than brick on the carpeted floor. 

The door slammed open in a burst of wind, and Marion was gliding up the stairs rather than walking. The door to the room Greyson was in opened just as easily as the first one. He was too late, though. He saw Greyson, laid in a corner, just as Missfit disappeared around the corner and down the stairs. 

His sidekick was letting out a pained, delirious groan. Protruding from his chest was just the base of a silver blade, the handle wrapped in violet cloth. Already, veins of purple were snaking out from the point of impact. 

He was still breathing. For now. And now, Marion had about four seconds to decide if he was going to save his sidekick, or go after Misshot.

Well. Marion had joined the NHU to save people, not stop crime. 

He tucked the ends of his sleeves over his hands and lifted Corvid from the floor. It didn’t take much to burst through the roof and set Greyson down gently in the alley across the street, where Alex had tucked herself in case anything went missing. 

“I’m going after her.” Marion said to the seemingly-empty alleyway. He turned back toward the building just as Missfit and her accomplice were trying to slip out the back.

Greyson’s ears were ringing.

Pain exploded in his chest; pain electrified his nerves, shooting up and down his limbs like his own blood carried it thrumming through his body. Muffled voices and blurry faces poked through his consciousness; a slim, strong set of arms carried him a short distance and he was lowered again, to hard ground. 

When his vision stopped swimming, it focused on the torn, cracked ceiling of a decrepit building and the hard-set jawline of their medic. 

Oh- Alex. A breathless noise left Greyson’s mouth of its own accord, and he let his head fall back to the ground, squeezing his eyes shut, and then sat up with a jolt as he remembered- “Euclidi- is he-”

“He’s fine. For now. Stay down; you’re still bleeding,” Alex warned him in a low tone, and the man gave a pained chuckle, “I figured that out myself. You planning on doing anything about that?”

“No. I still hate you.”

Greyson opened his eyes to glare at her a little harder, and Alex met it with an exasperated huff, “Don’t you think I would’ve if I could have by now? Fuckin’ thing’s too close to your heart and I can’t directly touch you.”

Looking down, his breath caught; there, where the fabric of his suit had been told and folded aside, something glowed in his chest- a pulsing, mapped out web of what could have been a beautiful design if it weren’t for the purple bloom spreading under the skin too, and the dull handle of a broken off blade still lodged at the center of the brand.

”I numbed it. Stopped the bleeding. It’s poison,” Alex said, grimly, confirming his fears. “She shivved some kinda compartment blade in that’s leaking it out, and she says the powers that make it up are soaked in some kind of voodoo binding spell.” She tapped the com in her ear, picking up everything Marion heard. “It’s not going anywhere until we can get you onto an operation table, and we’re not going anywhere until dumbass over there finishes his têtê-a-têtê.” 

“...Great.” He let his eyes close again, and tried not to focus on the pain. He could hear what was going on on Marion’s end through his coms, too. 

“-suggest you go check on your friend before he, ah… succumbs, hm?”

“From what I gather, I need you to keep that from happening.”

“That poison isn’t going anywhere with my help, and especially not without it. That damn kid is too dangerous to stay alive anyway.” 

Well, ouch. It wasn’t anything Greyson hadn’t heard before, though. It was the reason he was a sidekick and not an independent hero. 

Through the comms, the noises were slightly muffled; Greyson could imagine the device half-tucked out of sight beneath the folds of the hero’s jacket, and there was indeed a rustle of fabric before his voice came through again.

“But you can take it out of him.” The urgency was there in the undertone of Marion’s voice, no doubt there was that slanted line of cautious tension to his shoulders that set in when he was stressed.

“I can.” Coy, and egging. Misshot meant something else too, and it hung unspoken in the air between them until Marion took a hold of the words.

“For a price,” He sighed softly. “What do you want?”

Greyson’s hands tensed into fists, and he caught on another breath, “He’s-”

“I can hear,” Alex murmured, frown deepening as she shifted in her position, “Goddammit, they always have to pull this shit on Fridays. I’m taking a three-day next weekend.”

“I can keep it from killing him,” Misshot was saying, “But the bindings are absolute. Once they bind themselves to a life force they won’t let go unless- ah- ah, sit back down. Unless they’re taken on by someone else. All I want for you to do is help me find someone to save your friend. Although, now that I think of it, I wouldn’t mind Corvid dying too.”

“You want me to choose who it kills.” Flat, and slightly disgusted; Greyson knew the vigilante had struck a nerve with his hero.

“I want,” Misshot’s voice dropped to a minor chord that quivered for a second, “I want you, Euclidi, to feel exactly how my wife felt, around… two years ago, today.”

There was a long silence. A quiet, “...oh.”

Oh.

“Remember? I doubt you do. I was trapped, bleeding, screaming for help. She would have done anything you said if you’d have just stopped long enough to hear us out.”

Another long silence, and Marion said, carefully, “I haven’t… met you before.”

“No, of course you didn’t. You didn’t find me. You were too busy accepting all the medals that could fit around your ‘heroic’ neck before it snapped. She begged you, and you brushed her aside.”

“I want you to feel how she felt. Crushed when you collapsed another building like the atomic bomb you are. I want to stop you before you blow up anyone else.” 

“...Fine. And Corvid? He’ll be fine?” 

“If someone can stop the bleeding. He won’t die from my poison.” 

“...He’s over here.”

Gods fucking damn it, Greyson thought as the footsteps drew closer. Alex got to her feet, and Greyson did his best to sit himself up against the brick wall. 

“You’re not doing this. You stupid, self-sacraficing son of a chicken-fucking bastard!”

“Sorry, Euclidi, but for once I’ve gotta agree with her. I’ll take one for the team this time.” 

“I killed her wife, Al…”

“And that’s part of the damned job! We can’t save everyone, Missy, no matter how hard we try. No disrespect, kid,” she nodded toward Greyson, “But I’m not letting my best friend die for you.” 

Misshot coughed politely. “Euclidi, if you would so kindly restrain her.” 

A burst of wind pushed her up against the wall, not exactly unkind but not gentle either.

“Where do you need me to stand…?”

“Oh, you’ll want to be sitting down. The process won’t start over when it transfers to you, and clearly your friend is already… incapacitated.”

“Euclidi, please, don’t… the city needs you more than me…”

“My job is to save lives. ‘M not going to fail this time.” 

Misshot knelt at Greyson’s side. A monstrous purple goop enveloped her hands. Tendrils creeped, snaked along Greyson’s arm, down his shoulder, and into the wound on his chest. The veins of purple began to retreat, joining the sick mass originating from her hands. 

She turned to Marion to push it into his chest. 

A bullet rang out. It didn’t hit Misshot- but that didn’t matter. She lost control of the poisonous ball, and, well…

It went for the closest life force. 

Purple veins creeped up her neck, and she looked down in horror as her own poison began to envelop her. 

Seconds passed. At each one, she lost more and more focus and concentration. Misshot couldn’t manage to pull it back out before it ended her life. 

Marion watched, looking like a kicked puppy, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing any of them could do. 

“Euclidi, Corvid needs a hospital. We have to go.”

“R-right… right, we need to go… the cleanup team…?”

“Already on their way.”


	7. Day 6: (V) Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greyson has tried everything possible to help him sleep, so why is he still awake at 2 am?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit this one isn't the best, but in my defense, I'm preping for a dnd game today
> 
> -Loki

For what must have been the 8th time that night, Greyson tugged himself out of bed for water, or a snack, or to use the bathroom.

None of his normal tricks were working this time. He’d tried the heating blanket, all the hot packs he could dig out of the closets. He’d tried music- relaxing or otherwise. Lavender, warm milk. All of it.

All but one.

Marion was away on some business trip or another- confidential, as they usually were- and so Greyson was left to struggle on his own. 

Finally, around 2:45, he surrendered himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be getting to sleep tonight (or any night, until Marion got back) and settled himself on the couch with the last of Marion’s homemade cookies. And okay, he  _ knew  _ he’d promised Marion to wait until he got back to finish the rest of Bridgerton, but what was a boy to do?

Halfway through the last episode, the phone began to ring. Not his cellphone- only a select few had that number. The house phone. Considering the time, he guessed it to be a prank call. Well, why not at least try to enjoy himself, if he wasn’t going to be sleeping?

The caller ID showed… Marion’s number. Marion would have called his cell phone, wouldn’t he?

“Good evening, darling lover of mine. Or morning, rather. Are you having as much trouble sleeping as I am?”

  
“Ah, just who I wanted to talk to.”

The voice was not Marion’s. 

Greyson had only spoken to the man a few times, and during each one been given to most condescending, disrespectful tone of voice he’d ever heard. It was the tone he was hearing now. It was a tone Greyson hoped never to hear again.

“ _ Luther.  _ Why the  _ fuck  _ do you have Marion’s phone? Where the  _ hell  _ is he?”

“Silence your questions. Do you see it?”

Greyson looked around uneasily. “See what?”

“The sniper. Look out your window.”

Oh.  _ oh.  _ Greyson swiveled toward the building opposite him. There. A few floors below him, on the hotel’s balcony. A gun aimed directly at his skull.

“He’s got a camera hooked up to his scope. If you so much as move an inch from where you’re standing, poor little Euclidi will watch your brains blown out in real time. You’re on speaker, by the way. Say hi.” 

Greyson ignored the command, perfectly frozen in place. “...What do you want, then? Run away and never contact Marion again? Jump off the damn balcony? Commit some heinous crime so I won’t get pardoned, this time?” 

“Mm, no. All good guesses, though- and they’d be quiet fun to see. No, what you’re going to do for me is simply go back to bed.” 

“I… what? Why?” 

“Well, you’ll find out in the morning, won’t you? Go to bed.”   
  
Greyson took a couple cautious steps towards the bedroom. His brains didn’t splatter on the wall behind him, so he assumed the sniper had gotten the memo.    
  
“...I couldn’t sleep. That’s why I was up.”

“I know, it’s been a very aggravating couple hours. Keep walking- there’s another one on that building in front of you, don’t get any ideas.” 

Greyson climbed into bed on Marion’s side, sat up and scanning the building in front of him for the other sniper. This one was on the roof.    
  
“Hang up, now. The snipers aren’t anywhere. Just go to sleep.”

  
“Can I talk to Marion first…?”

“I suppose…”

There was the sound of shuffling, and a muffled  _ if you tell him anything you know what will happen,  _ then Marion’s voice crackled through the speakers.

“Listen, Greyson…”   
  


“No, I don’t need an explanation, Marion. I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on, but I… I love you so much, okay? Whatever happens, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Grey.. you’re gonna be alright, okay? It’s going to be okay.” 

“I… okay…” 

The phone shifted again. “That’s enough chatting, now. Hang up the phone. Go to bed. Everything will be just fine.” 

And what was Greyson meant to do? It was this or die. He curled himself up under the covers, clutching Marion’s pillow. He doubted he’d sleep any better though, knowing Marion was in danger.    
  
Around 30 minutes later, quiet footsteps slipped into their room. Greyson clutched the pillow tighter.

  
And then he was out.    
  
  
Greyson Nicholas Calva woke up in a hospital, hooked up to a heart monitor and an I.V. To the utter disbelief of medical professionals, he seemed to have severe amnesia, with no evidence of a wound. 


	8. Day 7: (M) Poisoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvid installs a failsafe to keep Marion from trying to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little short since I totally forgot yesterday. Enjoy anyway!
> 
> -Loki

Corvid listened to the quiet humming originating from the corner of his lab. He recognized the tune- a lovely piano melody he’d played while Marion- for he knew the boy’s name now- writhed in his sleep. The music had been an attempt to calm him, and it’d worked fairly well. Now, the song was his go-to soothing method for his hero.

Ex-hero now, he supposed. That title didn’t last long after half of central park was destroyed in a flare of blazing, blue light, Euclidi stood in the middle of it. His little puppet had done so well for his first mission.

Speaking of his puppet, Corvid had been delighted when he’d learned Euclidi’s real name.

_“My little puppet, my little Marion. My Marionette. It suits you so well, doesn’t it?”_

_The hero only managed a stark nod, his eyes downcast._

_“What are you, love?”_

_“Your Marionette…”_

_“Good boy.”_

Corvid listened as Marion’s humming drew to a close.

“Lovely, my Marionette. I’d love to hear you sing, sometime. Come here, I want to show you something.”

He didn’t turn his chair around as Marion stumbled to his feet, leaning sharply against the wall. Perhaps he’d hurt him too bad the other day… Well, it was no matter. Marion would drag himself to Corvid’s feet even if it killed him to do so.

“Up, in my lap.”

He settled himself in Corvid’s seat, straddling him.

“Easy. You can rest- lean your head against my shoulder.” Corvid, to his slight amusement, had found that his kindness towards Marion drastically increased the longer he had the boy in his control. He’d deprived him less of food and water, and allowed Marion to sleep in Corvid’s own bed, on nights he wasn’t using it and wouldn’t be for a while.

“I’m going to instal a failsafe, love. Just a precaution, so no one takes you from me, okay?”

Corvid pressed a needle to Marion’s upper arm and pushed in. “If anyone tries to arrest you, or convince you that you’re better off without me, you will tell them that you’re poisoned and only I have the antidote, do you understand?”

Of course, there wasn’t any real toxins in the injection. That had simply been a saline solution. The important part was that Marion believed it was poison.

“I will keep up with the poison and the antidote as necessary, darling. Mostly in your food- so many injections isn’t good for anyone. Do you understand?”

His puppet nodded against his collarbone.

“Do you want to stay here?”

Another nod. Corvid laughed softly.

“Very well, then. I’ll kick you off when you start crushing me, though.”


	9. Day 8: (P) "hey, hey, this is no place to sleep."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greyson's old habit of visits to central park resurfaces on a bitter winter night mid-panic attack, and he finds that ice can afflict an altogether different kind of burn.

Running. He was still. Running. 

He could only barely remember what it was that he was running from. A nightmare, maybe. Maybe Marion had accidentally turned the lights off, and remembered what Greyson’s triggers were just a moment too late. All he knew was that there’d been dark, it’d been too dark. 

His shoes were still left by the door. Along with his jacket and hat and gloves and scarf. Greyson was running through the slush-covered new york streets in socks and pajamas. His feet brought him to central park before his mind caught up with what was happening. 

He’d always gone here, when he burned himself out, or when he needed a change of scenery to finally sleep. Ice had never hurt him before. He couldn’t remember why not. He couldn’t remember why it shouldn’t, now. 

There was a spot, hidden behind bushes and trees, out of the line of sight from any of the paths. Greyson had ducked under one of the branches and collapsed in the snow. 

His nerves finally began catching up with him. His feet stung and burned, his socks were soaking wet. His chest ached after running so long (even though their apartment was only a few blocks from the park) and his throat burned from the cold. 

He ignored it. His eyes fluttered shut. 

It was still snowing lightly. He could feel it skate through the air, landing on his collarbones and his cheeks and his eyelashes. It was always pleasant here. He was so used to this being his sedative. 

But something was off, this time. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, so he dug his toes in deeper into the snow and wiggled his shoulders a bit so he’d sink into it. 

Greyson drifted in and out of unconsciousness, staring at the cloudy sky between the branches of the tree overhead. 

Until he heard the snow crunching, far too close to be someone on a late night walk on the path. His eyes flickered open. 

Someone peeked through the branches, then hurried forward. Marion fell to his knees at his side. 

“Greyson… Grey, hey, this is no time to sleep...”

It took him a moment to comprehend. His mind had been working far slower than normal. “Marion…?”

“It’s me, I’m here… what the hell… what are you doing here?”

Greyson pushed himself up, flakes of snow falling off of him. 

“I don’t… I’d always come here, before everything… I don’t know, Marion…” 

His cheeks were pink. His fingertips were blue. His clothes were soaking wet. 

“Just- explain it to me later. Come on.”

Marion scooped Greyson up into his arms. A gust of wind surrounded them, lifting him up into the sky. 

Being a superhero had its perks, of course, namely the increible pay. Marion landed on the balcony of their penthouse and pushed the door open with his foot. 

Instantly, the warmth hit him like a truck. Marion carried him to their bathroom and started up the tub with lukewarm water- then remembered why Greyson had left in the first place, and started the shower instead.

“Greyson, listen, okay…? You’re incredibly cold, so this water is going to burn a bit when you touch it. I promise, I’ll be right here, and you’ll get used to it soon, okay?”

Greyson slumped into his arms even as Marion stepped into the shower. Instantly, he was writhing against his grasp. 

“M-Mari, it burns…!” He whimpered. His boyfriend slumped against the wall, sitting down and taking Greyson with him. He took Greyson’s hands in his, trying to warm them up. 

“I’m sorry…” Grey whispered. “I’m sorry, whatever I did, I’m sorry, please stop, please stop it…” 

“Greyson… You didn’t do anything wrong. You just panicked, it’s okay. You’re okay. This is just to be safe, alright? Just to warm you up.” 

Soon, Marion pulled Greyson out of the shower. Both of them were dripping wet, their clothes utterly soaked. Marion helped Greyson change, his touches as gentle and light as he could make them. 

It would’ve been better if Greyson had hot cocoa or tea or something else, but Marion refused to leave him for a second, so they curled against each other under the covers, the heat blanket on max. 

“Do you… want to explain to me what happened…?”

“When I still had my powers… the snow couldn’t hurt me. It’d always help me calm down… I guess it was just habit. ‘M sorry.” 

“I see… is there anything I can do to help…?”

“I don’t think so… just… sorta freaked.”

“I understand. Well, now I know where to find you, hm?”


	10. Day 9: (V) Buried Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greyson is misdiagnosed, intentionally or otherwise, as dead. He is buried, until, at his funeral, Benni realizes that she can still feel his mind.

Marion couldn’t believe it.  _ Wouldn’t  _ believe it. It wasn’t allowed. This wasn’t allowed. 

His wrists, the coroner said. He’d slit his wrists and bled out. The knife was still clutched in his hand when they found him. It was airtight. He was  _ dead.  _   
  
Marion’s first thought had been whether to go to the funeral as Marion or Euclidi. His second was that he’d probably have to  _ plan  _ the funeral- The way Marion’s mother had had to plan his father’s, since he had no one else.

Well, Greyson  _ did  _ have someone else, but there was no way he’d let that failure of a father do it.

He’d far underestimated how  _ difficult  _ it would be, how many big decisions had to be made in such little time. 

Marion leaned over Lottë’s table (he couldn’t bring himself to go back to the apartment), utterly in tears. His hand fisted his hair until it hurt, and it was all Lottë could do to stay by him and keep rubbing his forearm.

“Lots, I don’t know where to  _ bury  _ him…” 

“Why not cremate…? Scatter the ashes somewhere he liked.”

“No, no, he hated his powers. I doubt he’d want anything else to do with fire…” 

“Then… where do you want to be buried?”

“What?”

“If you, say, died in action. What’s in your will? Do you have a spot reserved?”

“I always wanted… near my dad…” 

“Bury him in the same graveyard. I’m sure Isobel would welcome him into the family, dead or alive.”

“I… yeah… that sounds nice. I think… he’d like that… God, Lots, I barely  _ knew  _ him.”

“That doesn’t make your love any less real. And I know he cared for you- we all saw it. Clear as day.”

“Yeah… yeah, okay… could you help me pick something to wear…?”

“Of course.”

  
  


Now, watching the glossy wooden casket descend into the earth, all he could think was that she’d been right. Greyson would be happy here. 

They were near the ocean, in a pleasant green meadow peppered with wildflowers and the headstones of those who also realized that this was the most peaceful place one could be buried. 

The public didn’t know he was dead yet. He didn’t want the victim's families showing up, spitting on his grave, vandalizing the headstone. They would in a couple days. They’d never be allowed to know  _ where,  _ though. Not until Corvid was history instead of present. 

Marion gripped the shovel. He’d be allowed to place the first shovelful. To his right, Alex set her hand on his shoulder. Even for someone who hated her, and who she hated in return, she’d begrudgingly come, and even dressed for the occasion. She wore expensive dress pants and a blazer over a dark maroon blouse. 

Marion squeezed his eyes shut and let the dirt fall. A few feet behind him, Benni watched, leaning against Lottë and weeping silently. She wore a borrowed dress from Lottë. 

He dug the shovel back into the pile. The rest of it would be done by workers- it was hot, anyway, and Marion was already sweating. 

Slowly, the small group began to trickle away. Alex back to the city alone, Olive and Lottë taking Benni with them. 

“Could I… stay with Marion a little longer…?” She asked in a small voice.    
  
“Benni, maybe we should leave him-”

Marion interrupted before Lottë could finish her sentence. “I don’t see why not. I could use some ice cream, and I really don’t want to go alone. I’ll bring her back later, okay?” 

“...Fine.”

Marion and Benni watched them go, and the two made their way over to a tree to watch in the shade as Greyson was finally, really buried. 

Benni leaned her head on his shoulder and let her eyes close. They stayed that way for a long while, until the worker finished. Slowly, her brow furrowed.    
  
“Shall we go get that ice cream, then? We could both use a pick-me-up, and I know a place around here.”

“I-Shh.”

Marion did as asked, slightly confused. She got to her feet, and looked around. There wasn’t anyone else around newly buried.

“He’s still alive.” She murmured.    
  
“In our hearts, yes, I know.”

“No, I mean he’s  _ still alive.  _ I can still hear his mind, he’s- he’s panicking. He’s  _ awake,  _ Marion, he’s still alive!” 

Marion’s eyes widened. He ran after the worker who’d just left with the shovel. He didn’t bother to explain, jerking it from the man’s hand and running back.    
  
“Can- can you talk to him? Can you tell him we’re coming?” Marion asked even as he dug the shovel hard into the earth. 

“I can try…”

  
  


They were only halfway down when the worker came back with his supervisor, and security.    
  
“No- I- he’s still alive, we  _ know  _ he’s still alive, I- I can’t explain it to you.” Marion didn’t want to reveal them to strangers, if he didn’t have to. 

“Sir, that’s impossible.” The woman, who seemed very displeased with the maniacs in her cemetary. 

“Not for supers.” Benni whispered. 

“What?”

“I… I can read minds. I can read his. Dead people don’t think.”

The supervisor seemed to come to a realization. She turned to the worker.

“...Go get another shovel.”

With two people, it went much faster. Benni had texted Lottë using Marion’s phone, and she and Olive had rushed back. 

When they were six inches away, they started to hear Greyson pounding on the lid. Benni released a strangled cry- she’d been listening to his thoughts the entire time. She knew how scared he was. 

Finally, Marion’s shovel hit wood. They cleared the rest of the dirt off, and with the end of his shovel, Marion pried the lid off.    
  
Greyson pushed it away and leapt into his arms, sobbing hard. His eyes were pink, and his voice was hoarse from screaming.    
  
“Marion…” he whispered.

“Marion.” 


	11. Day 10: (P) "I'm sorry, I didn't know"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I KNOW I FORGOT YESTERDAY SHUT UP I'M DOING IT NOW
> 
> -LOKI

The two were sat at the table, each with a mug of untouched beverages (coffee for Marion, hot cocoa for Greyson- caffeine never did good things for him). Marion’s head was in his hands. 

“So- he-”

“Hang on. Calm down for a moment, Marion. First off, it was years ago. I haven’t seen him in almost a decade, and second off, panicking isn’t going to help anything.”

“I’m going to slaughter that son of a bitch.” 

“Marion-”

“No, I’m serious. He deserves to die, you deserve… You deserve a father figure, a proper one. And… and closure. God, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” 

Greyson laughed darkly. “I think the closest thing I’ve had to one of those since him was… Luther? God, could you picture that man having kids?” 

“You’re changing the topic.”

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be. I’m okay now.”

“You’re not. Does your therapist know?”

“I’m close enough. She does.”

“You told her before me?”

“I tell her a lot of things you don’t know, Marion. That’s what she’s there for.”

“I… still.”

“I trust you, Marion, I was just… scared you’d react like this. I’d rather just keep him out of my life once and for all, even if it means going without justice.” 

“...Fine. I understand, I do. Tell me more.” Marion finally accepted defeat and pushed his mug away from himself. He wasn’t drinking it, and he didn’t want to knock it over. 

“Well… there were days when he’d feel bad, almost. He’d let me each lunch or dinner upstairs, and give me tea or let me watch a movie- that’s why I hate that damn sleepytime tea. He couldn’t even make it right.” 

“What’s his name…?” 

“Nicholas.” Grey spat. Marion scoffed incredulously. 

“I don’t know what I expected from such a self-centered, narcissistic asshole. I’m only surprised Nick isn’t your first name.” 

“Yeah, well… mom insisted. Laina told me about it, they spent weeks arguing over it.” 

“Do you want it changed? Your middle and last names?” 

“My middle name, I think. Last name can wait.” 

“Until what?” 

“Until I take yours.” 

Marion’s expression broke into a grin after a second. “Oh you cheesy motherfucker, you really had to go there?” Greyson laughed and gripped Marion’s hand, squeezing reassuringly. 

“I’m okay, really. Never have to see that damn bastard again. ‘Nd I’ve got you, so it’ll never get too bad.” 

He finally took a sip of his hot cocoa. Lukewarm, now, and sickeningly sweet. He smiled minutely. Marion knew how he liked it. 

“He should be… what, late 60s, early 70s? He’ll be rotting in hell at a few years before I ever get there. I’ll be fine, it’ll be fine.” He stood to put his mug back in the microwave. “Tell me about your father. You told me he died when you were 15, right? What was he like?”

Marion sat there ruminating for a moment. “He was… quiet. Gentle.” 

“And he raised the outspoken, vocal trio that you and your siblings are?”

“No, that was all mom’s doing…” Marion laughed. “He’s the reason… I finally made the decision to be a hero. I was going to do that either way, but he was who I thought about when I finally admitted that to myself. Just… wanted him to be proud of me.”

“He would’ve been no matter what you did.” 

“How do you know that…? You never met ‘im.”

“Because, I am. I would’ve been proud of you no matter what you did.” 

Marion snorted.

“If I’d stayed in college, we’d never have met.” 

“Oh, I severely doubt that. We’re meant to be.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in destiny.”

“I don’t, it’s bullshit. But this is fate.” 

“Oh my god, you’re hopeless.” Marion stood to press Greyson up against the counter, laughing against his neck. Greyson was giggling just as hard. 

“I’m the hopeless one? You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

“More than anything.”


	12. Day 11: (C) Hallucinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of Greyson’s delusions while he was kept in the tanks at Cedars

Greyson curled up the chest he was lying against, which lacked the warmth that should’ve been there. Like lying against a corpse. Nevertheless, he pressed his face into the man’s shoulder and let out a shaky breath. 

“There we are… easy, it’s okay. You’re okay, aren’t you?”

“I’m not.” He mumbled. 

“You need to be. You’re okay.” It wasn’t a question, or a reassurance. It was a  _ demand.  _

“I’m sorry…” He mumbled against Marion’s shoulder. “You’re not here, and I’m so scared without you… I can’t do this by myself.”

“You have to. I can’t be there to baby you all the time.”

“But you’re coming, right?”

“I suppose. You’ll just have to wait for me. You can do that, right? You can wait?”

“...How long?”

“As long as I need you to.” 

Greyson huffed. That wasn’t very reassuring. But then again… this version of Marion never was. He was cryptic and indefinite, and he insulted Greyson sometimes.    
  
_ You’re weak. You haven’t even been here that long, and already you’re begging.  _

_ Why can’t you save yourself? The great and mighty Corvid, reduced to a withering, whimpering  _ **_mess._ **

Somehow, Greyson kept strong. Even though, sometimes, he didn’t want to. He squeezed himself under Marion’s arms to press kisses against his shoulder, the one with the mark from their one pleasant weekend, scarred over.

Truly, he didn’t know what it looked like scarred over. It had been wrapped up in a bandage that peeked out of the collar of Marion’s tee shirt when he jostled it. But he’d seen enough wounds and the resulting scars to make a good guess. Or at least, for his mind to conjure something up. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Kissing my boyfriend, what are you doing?” 

“When did I ever say I was your boyfriend?”

“...I thought it was just… assumed.” 

“I’m not your  _ boyfriend.  _ I just stuck around because I realized you were too pathetic to keep yourself alive.” 

“...Marion, stop this.” Greyson pushed himself up, out of Marion’s arms. He seemed relieved to let him go. 

“Why? It’s  _ true.  _ You were crying and screaming, and you would’ve bled out if I hadn’t come. You were going mad. You were  _ already  _ mad. You  _ are  _ mad. You’re hallucinating a man you’ve known for  _ maybe  _ four months. You think I’m in  _ love  _ with you? No, you’re just obsessed.” 

“Marion, stop it!”

“Make me. You’re the one conjuring me. Everything I say is something you, deep down, want me to.”   
  
“ _ No,  _ that’s- that’s not  _ true.  _ I want you to love me, Marion, I  _ love you.”  _

“Do you, though? Or do you love the idea of me?”

Damned logic. 

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t- that isn’t something I need to worry about right now. I just need to stay alive. Then I can have you back, the  _ real  _ you.” 

“Everytime you look at me, you’ll remember this. You’ll remember that I’m  _ right.”  _

“For fuck’s sake, just shut  _ up!”  _

Greyson jerked awake, in the dark, empty pool. His eyes were full of salt water, both from his tears and the tank. His muscles throbbed and his wrists stung from pulling and tugging at the restraints keeping him from dipping under the water. 

He sucked in a few sharp breaths that made his ribs ache from the wounds. That wasn’t real, it hadn’t been real, he reminded himself. Marion was coming for him. He loved him.


	13. Day 12: (R) Truth Serum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvid is caught and forced to drink a truth serum. Marion slowly realizes that his hero has not had the perfect life everyone seems to think he has now.

“Alex, hold him down.” 

Corvid didn’t struggle as his wrists were chained behind him on the chair, even though he wasn’t drugged anymore (the last dose was 72 hours ago- despite Eucldi’s impatience to know more about ‘his hero’, he wanted to make sure Greyson was fully conscious.) 

Alex wasn’t wearing gloves. She didn’t need to. Taking his powers away had been one of the first things Euclidi did after his capture, and while he’d been grateful (and felt guilty for that) in the moment, he’d since wished desperately that he could simply disappear, or burn his way through the metal, or- against the morals trained into him- just kill them and get it over with. 

“You can go now, love, thank you.” Alex scoffed, and her boots thudded against the tile as she left, the metal door slamming in her wake. 

The truth serum was the latest in Euclidi’s endless stream of torture and toying. He didn’t understand why- anything the villain wanted to know about him could surely be sourced otherwise. 

“I want to hear it from you, Greyson.” He squirmed at the use of his first name, “The embarrassing, the dark, the secret. Everything you know that no one else does- I can’t threaten that out of friends and family. And there’s something pleasing about watching someone squirm as they divulge everything.” 

Euclidi tugged a cloth off the tray on his cart. 

“A cupcake?” 

“I thought it’d be more pleasant than forcing a vial of liquid down your throat- liquid I’m told doesn’t taste very good and feels like acid. This or that, love, your choice.” Euclidi held the cupcake to his lips- chocolate, with a mountain of blue frosting and sprinkles that would never fit in his mouth. 

Reluctantly, his mouth opened, and Euclidi forced the cupcake in. Sure enough, frosting coated his lips and crumbs fell into his lap. It took him a moment to force it down, sickeningly sweet in a situation that gave him a subtle, constant nausea. 

“Mm, you’ve got a little something right here-” Euclidi took his gloves off to wipe blue off his cheek. 

Euclidi took his gloves off to touch him. It shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was, goosebumps raising over his arms- bare, now- and thighs- in a similar state. 

He couldn’t help but lean into the touch, even as Euclidi pulled his hand away with a little laugh. 

“...How long will it take?” 

“Around 30 minutes to set in. Just you and me until then.” 

Greyson’s eyes fell shut. He wasn’t tired, he wasn’t hungry- his wounds were minimal thanks to the healing effect of Euclidi’s powers, and bandaged where they couldn’t be healed. Marion had truly wanted him to be in a perfect state for this. 

It felt like hours before the timer on his captor’s watch beeped. The serum should be in full effect, now. Greyson’s stomach twisted. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Greyson Nicholas Calva. You know that, though.” 

“Just testing. What do you think of my assistant?” 

“She’s a little bitch who hates your guts and the guts of everyone else around her. You know that, too.” 

“Mm. Tell me a secret. A little one. Something only a few people know.” 

“The Kennedy Assasination was commissioned by the government.” 

“Interesting. Why do you, of all people, know this?” 

“Another villain tried to use it to prove that the government is corrupt and I shouldn’t work for them anymore. They were right, and I doubted myself for weeks after. But that was 60 years ago, it doesn’t mean the government is still like that, right?” Words spouted from his lips like a faucet. Greyson didn’t seem distressed, though. Simply… defeated. 

“If that’s what makes you feel better. You said you didn’t make the scars on your wrists. Who did?” 

“My dad. He has a pain feeding power.” 

“Fuckwad.” 

“Obviously. Why do you think I left?” His wrists twisted in the bindings.

“If I untie you, will you try to run?”

“No. I think Alex locked all the doors behind her, or you did remotely. I will punch you very, very hard, though.” 

Marion snickered. “I like you like this. You’re fun.” 

“I know. I can see it on your face. Your smile is only real when you’re teasing me. I like it.” His cheeks flushed. His expression didn’t change. 

“Ooh, do you have a little crush?” 

“I hate it. I’m supposed to hate you. I do hate you. But no one else has touched me before, and I- I need it. I’ve craved human contact my whole life, how can I not fall for the only one to fulfill that? And you’re really, really sexy. You should wear fingerless gloves. And your visor would suit you better if it were a little darker in color.” 

“You’re suddenly the master of fashion?”

“I’m gay. Duh. I don’t think you are, though. It hurts. I want you.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

“I think you and Alex are banging and that’s the only reason why she stays. She hates you. You must be really good.” 

Marion was still for a moment before he keeled over laughing. 

“You think I- she- you think she’d- no. We’re not banging. And I’m not straight.” 

“Damn it. I’d feel safer if you were.” 

Marion shifted, legs crossed and arms folded over each other. “Tell me something embarrassing.” 

“I watched all of Phineas and Ferb unironically in two days. Mick still brings it up sometimes when they want to tease me.” 

“Who’s Mick? Friend of yours?”

“Closest. They’re probably looking for me. I’m worried for them. I’m afraid you’ll hurt them.” 

“If I tell you I don’t give a fuck about your friends, will you believe me?”

“I don’t believe anything you say.” 

“That’s fair, honestly. Do you want me to kiss you?” 

“I… want to know what it’s like. And I’d rather you than anyone else. But no, I don’t want you to kiss me.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I’m tied down. I couldn’t pull away if I didn’t like it.” 

“If I untied you, what would you want me to do?” 

“I’d want you to stay there so I can kiss you instead of you kissing me. And I’d want you to take the visor off. What color are your eyes?”

Marion paused for a moment. He stared into Greyson’s eyes, and even if Greyson couldn’t see them, he could feel the intensity in Marion’s.

“And after you kiss me?”

“I’d punch you for letting me.” 

“Worth it. Hold your wrists out.”


	14. Day 13: (C≠) Hiding Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It isn’t until Benni and Greyson are bandaged and accounted for that Marion reveals his own wound.

Charlie fell back on her knees. Blood covered her hands and her shirt and her face, to the point that it’d stain her skin longer than one wash. Marion and Lottë weren’t in much better shape. No one was.    
  
But Greyson was stable. He wasn’t bleeding freely, at least. Benni was alive- terrified, and exhausted, but alive. Everything else was a problem to be solved… later. They all just needed to rest. 

“Marion, you need rest…” 

He didn’t answer. His forehead was resting on the quilt Greyson was tucked under.    
  
Charlie recognized the slouched shoulders. The lack of attention. She hesitantly reached for his wrist to press her thumb into the inside of it. 

She could barely feel his pulse. And what she  _ could  _ feel was racing. 

“ _ Marion.”  _

She pushed him back off the bed. Her panic only rose when, instead of sitting back, he collapsed, his eyes fluttering. 

“Lot- Lottë!  _ Lottë!”  _ _  
_ _  
_ She tugged up the hem of his sweatshirt, and- sure enough, the blood soaking him wasn’t just Greyson’s.    
  
  


As Marion had busted through the walls of C.D.R.S, a bit of shrapnel had found its way through his leather jacket, through his hoodie, through his shirt and even the undershirt beneath it. The pointed shard of concrete was burrowed in his gut, bleeding stagnantly. Now that she’d pulled up his shirt, she could see that his torso was red and sticky with blood, and the entire waistband of his pants had turned dark maroon. 

Lottë was there in seconds, with the first aid kit she’d been tending to Benni with. She hardly faltered, even as she saw the wound. Merely glanced at Greyson, asleep, then knelt at Marion’s side. 

“Panic isn’t going to help anything, love, you know that.” She clicked open the case and took out a pair of scissors to cut off his clothing.    
  
Charlie, meanwhile, reached for the alcohol wipes to clean away the wound so they could see the damage. 

Once they pulled the bit of shrapnel out, the bleeding increased tenfold. Marion quickly went from delirious to unresponsive. Clearly, this was beyond Charlie and Lottë’s combined capabilities. 

“We- we need to call an ambulance.” 

“That’s only going to make things worse, trust me. Olive’s on the way- they’re bringing help. We’ve just- gotta keep him alive, okay? We have to keep him alive. Press harder on the wound.” 

Charlie nodded gravely and pressed all her weight down on his stomach. Marion didn’t cry out, anymore. He didn’t even flinch. 

It took Olive maybe an hour to get back- an hour of frantically trying to stop the bleeding  _ just enough- _ but when they did, they brought reinforcements.  _ Lots  _ of reinforcements. 

Two off-duty paramedics, to be exact. And a commandeered ambulance, full of the equipment they’d need. Lottë rushed off to move her car so they could hide it in the garage while Olive’s friends took a look at Marion.

The first thing was getting him off the floor of the attic bedroom, and downstairs, so it wasn’t quite so claustrophobic. Charlie found herself pushed to the side, watching as they dealt with the hero.

Somehow, someway, they got him stable. Lottë collapsed on the couch- and she had a right to be exhausted. It was almost 3 in the morning. 

“I-I should be getting home… will they be alright?”

“Mhm. One of Olive’s friends is staying the night to keep an eye on both of them, and I’ll make sure Benni’s alright. Go home. Take care of yourself.” 

Charlie nodded and slipped out the front door without another word. Her truck was covered in blood, and she let out a deep breath. Sooner or later, she’d have to come clean. 


	15. Day 14: (P) "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greyson recalls some of the things that he did to Marion as Corvid.

“So you remember? All of it?” 

“All of it. Most of it. They came back in phases, sort of. They’re mixed around, towards the end. And then very, very clear at the very end.” Marion leaned against the island in their kitchen.    
  
“What… what about you? How much were you present for?” 

“About… half. Another quarter is blurry. And I… watched the security tapes, after the ones I wasn’t there for. Just to keep track.” 

“So you know… all of it.”    
  
“All of it except the last part. That was all Jacob, and he… won’t tell me about it. He’s said it was really bad, and knowing about it will only complicate things. I’ve seen some of the footage from outside, though. Only what’s shown on the news.”

Marion blinked, and held Greyson’s gaze for a long few moments before turning to look out the window, the one over the kitchen window that held nothing but a back alley view that seemed very interesting to the man suddenly.

“Well,” Marion said quietly, “He knew that we’d come too far by then. I imagine that if he’d caught me he would have killed me. I wasn’t breaking.”

“...Right. We thought you were, though.” Greyson’s eyes followed Marion’s, out the window. His voice lowered to almost a whisper. “We really, really thought you were, and I… I thought you deserved a break from it all.” 

When Marion didn’t answer, he took it as a sign to continue. “I convinced him to keep you off the drugs. Just for a few days, just to let you heal a little. Get a good night’s sleep. He told me you were dangerous, that you’d… that you’d kill me the second you got the chance.” 

There was silence for a while yet, but Greyson couldn’t bring himself to fill it again, that same old dogged terror constricting round his lungs and narrowing his peripheral to blurred lines, and a jagged spike of white hot fear when a laugh was the final answer, one sarcastic and laden with grim humor, 

“That was nice of you.”

And then, in a chord quieter and more hesitant, “Greyson, how much of it was  _ you? _ How much of it was from you, and not him?”

Greyson swallowed hard. “That’s… a difficult question. It was both of us, a lot of the time. I’d say… a quarter of the time, it was just me- I let you shower, in our apartment. Half the time was just him, and the other quarter I was, like… riding passenger.” 

“I hurt you, Marion. I did. And I can’t- I can’t justify it, or shift the blame. I was  _ scared  _ of you. Really, really scared, and I  _ hated _ you because- because you were  _ the one thing  _ keeping me from getting rid of it all.” Greyson’s eyes were rimmed red and inflamed, now, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “And I hurt you, and I  _ liked it  _ because you were just an idiot with a visor, and it was impersonal and so very personal all at once and I just got to  _ vent  _ and-” He stilled at the look on Marion’s face. 

“But- you weren’t  _ Marion  _ yet. You were just… Euclidi. And Euclidi ripped me apart and threw cars at me and stopped missions-”

“Grey,” Marion said, and it stilled him. Brought the panic to a trembling precipice that quivered fit to collapse until the man turned his head, and Greyson recognized the crumbling in his expression. 

“Oh, love,” Marion said softly, and it crested and broke, and suddenly Greyson’s knees had hit the hard tile and his palms were pressed to his eyes, and his fingernails were digging into his face in a way they hadn’t for a long, long time.

“I just- I had you in the palms of my hands, and you were shaking, and I could do  _ whatever I wanted to you,  _ and so I did, but I didn’t  _ want  _ it, I just felt like that’s what I should’ve wanted- I didn’t  _ mean  _ it, Marion, I didn’t mean it…”

Marion fell right alongside him, one hand resting between his shoulders, the other prying his nails from his face the way he’d done so many times before, in so many attacks like this. “I know you didn’t. Even when you were doing it, I knew you didn’t mean it.” 

And maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe Marion had seethed with rage, and hadn’t thought about what was truly going on behind the mask, or what the man really wanted. He hadn’t been thinking the straightest, then, but if he had, he would have picked up the signs. Oblivious as he could be, at times.

“It’s over now, anyway. I’ve forgiven you. I doubt you could ever hurt me again. And I could never, ever hurt you. Now that I know you. Okay? You don’t have to justify anything to me.”

“But-” Greyson’s hands went to Marion’s upper arms, gripping as though he’d fall if he didn’t. 

“But nothing. You don’t have to explain it to me if you can’t, if you don’t want to.” He lightly guided Greyson’s hand off his arm to settle the man’s head against his chest, his fingers running through Greyson’s hair.    
  


“Do we need to stay home tonight?” They’d had plans for a dinner date, and Marion’s tie was already slung around his shoulders, slipping off one side. 

Greyson nodded quietly against his chest.

“I’ll go get a bubble bath started and then we can watch a movie, okay?’

“‘Kay” 


	16. Day 15: (V) "Run. Don't look back."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even in her dying breaths, lungs filled with smoke, Laina is able to look out for her little brother one last time. But what does the future hold for a young, untouchable, soot-stained boy wandering the wharf alone?

“But- won’t it-” Greyson squirmed on the couch, half on his side against one of the worn, threadbare cushions. His shoes were too small and his clothes were too worn and the plastic gloves he was forced to wear were sweaty. He hated them, normally, but now his teensy hands clenched into fists just to keep them on. 

“Listen to what I tell you, boy. Light the goddamn thing so we can go. It’s not that hard to understand.” 

In the doorway to their room, Laina, his sister, watched the interaction, anguish drenching her face and heart. 

Greyson, terrified of the man standing over him, pressed his palm to the couch. The glove on his hand melted. 

The threadbare fabric caught. And burned. 

“D-dad, I couldn’t unplug the laptop-” 

“Goddamnit, Laina, you couldn’t have said that sooner?” But the fire alarms were already going off. Even if Greyson could stop the fires now, it was too late. Their father rushed into the bedroom where the laptop Laina had borrowed from the library had been.

Laina slammed the door behind him, and locked it. 

Their father had wanted the option, to lock them away at any time. Clearly, that would turn out for the worst. 

Laina moved to scoop Greyson off the floor, but the end of her hair had caught in the door. Turning as much as she could, Laina tugged and pulled, her skin stinging from the pull. She knew, if she let their father out, he’d drag both of them out to who-knows-where. 

“GODDAMNIT, LAINA, YOU LET ME OUT RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR I’LL KILL THE FUCKING KID.”

“...Lai?” Greyson was stood on the couch, peeking over the top of it. By now, the entire thing was engulfed in flames, and most of the carpet too. He was coughing- yes, he was immune to the heat of the fire, but not the smoke. 

“Greyson, come… come here.” 

She rarely used his full name. 

Greyson climbed down from the couch. Walked through the fires like he didn’t see them. 

His clothes were charred and scrap, by now. The walls were beginning to catch. The ceiling was covered in smoke, and over the sound of crackling flames, they could hear a commotion outside the door- people were already evacuating. 

She took her jacket off and wrapped it around his shoulders. 

“Greyson, listen to me and listen close.” He nodded frantically. “You’re going to put my jacket on and go out into the hall. Go down the stairs with everyone else. Once you get out there, don’t talk to anyone- not even the police. You’re going to run down the street, as fast as you can. Get away from here, Greyson. Run. Don’t look back.”

“Come with me, Lai! Why can’t you come with me?” 

“I-I can’t. I’m stuck, and if I open the door, he’ll get us… just- just go, okay? I love you so, so much…” 

“I’m gonna go to the park, okay…? I’ll just find you when you get there. I love you too, Lai.” 

He stood on his tiptoes so she could press a kiss to his forehead through the rough fabric of the jacket’s hood, coughing hard. 

“Go, Grey! Be quick!” She pushed him toward the door, and he ran out into the hall, closing the door behind him. 

The little boy darted past his neighbors, most of which had never seen him before, and down the steps. He tucked under legs and weaved through families, all the while keeping the hand missing the glove clutched close to his chest, the tatters of burnt plastic still around his wrist. 

Finally, he made it out into the open air. Snow was falling gently from the sky, and his worn and torn shoes did little to keep out the slush and puddles coating the ground. He could hear the sirens already. 

He remembered what Laina told him to do, though. Greyson didn’t quite remember the way to the park, but such was the layout of New York City that it didn’t take much time. 

Laina had only been allowed to take him here a couple of times, when it was late so he wouldn’t touch anyone. He decided to dart towards the playset, hiding under the jungle gym and tucking his knees to his chest.

It was mid-january, and far before freezing. Greyson could feel how cold it was, but… it didn’t hurt him. He resolved to wait here as long as he had to for Laina to find him. 

Greyson had no idea how long he’d been waiting when he heard footsteps in the snow. He peeked out from behind the slide, hoping to see Laina- surely, she’d know to find him here. 

Instead, he found a tear-stained boy, all messy curls and disheveled clothes. Greyson jerked back even as the boy, who couldn’t be any older than he was, ducked under the playset and joined him in the snow. 

“Why the hell-” Laina told him he shouldn’t say that- “Heck- are you here?” 

“Well, why are you here?” The boy snapped back, wiping away tears. His hands were wet from the snow, though, and they didn’t do much good. 

“My house got caught on fire.” 

“...Oh. Well, I needed some alone time and I can’t go to my safe spot ‘cause I’m not at Mami’s.”

“....safe spot?” Greyson echoed after a second, studying the other boy with his eyes wide and solemn. His coat was buttoned up askew, and white peppered the dark fabric, and the dark hair, melted snowdrops and cooling teardrops at the tips of his curls and eyelashes.

He nodded a little, “A place you can go where no one is supposed to be able to find you, so you can think and cry or… do whatever, really. Is this yours?”

“No,” Greyson said immediately, and he squirmed away a little when the other looked up, and explained, “I’m waiting for my sister to find me.”

“Are you cold?” 

Pulling Laina’s jacket tighter about his smaller frame, Greyson shook his head again, refusing to answer. The wind picked up a little, whistling through the tunnel of the slide above them. 

“Are you hurt?” 

“....no.” 

“Okay,” and the boy breathed out a shuddering sigh, and pulled his knees closer to his chest and put his head in them, quieting down. 

Greyson plucked up a wood chip and started to split it underneath his fingernails, anxiety gnawing at his stomach until it was queasy. He poked his head out from under the slide and looked around, but his sister’s face was not there to greet him, only the forbidding dark and the chunks of snow sliding off the branches.

The two sat in silence for a long while. Greyson had never met another boy, let alone a kid his age. What was he supposed to say in a scenario like this?

“What’s your name?” the boy asked, finally.

“Greyson. Lai calls me Grey.” And dad called him ‘boy’ or occasionally, ‘fuckwad’, but Laina said he shouldn’t say that, either.

“I’m Marion. Mami and Papi call me Mari. Lenny calls me Mar-on. I guess ‘Marion’ is too hard for her. You can call me Mari too, if you want. Is Lai your sister?”

“Yeah, but only I can call her that. Her name’s Laina.” 

“Okay. When is Laina going to come find you?” 

Greyson bristled. He could faintly smell her conditioner- cheap, walmart brand- in the hood that fell half over his eyes. “...I don’t know. She got stuck in the door.” 

“I bet she’s dead.” 

“Mari!” Greyson couldn’t stop the tears welling up in his eyes, now. If she died, It’d be all his fault. He was the one who started the fire, after all. Even though Dad made him. “She’s- She’s not dead. She just got stuck. The firefighters will help her. They’ll get her down with their big ladder.” He tugged his knees closer to his chest. 

“What about your parents? When are they?”

“...I don’t know. Mami lives on the beach, so she’s not here. Papi’s probably looking for me, though. I… went kinda far.” 

“Maybe you should go try to find him.” 

“But when you’re lost, you’re supposed to stay where you are so someone can find you. Didn’t you learn that?” 

“...No…”

“Well, that’s what you’re supposed to do. You should wait here for Laina.” 

“...Okay.” 

The two boys made idle conversation, for a while. The sort that kids would have- although Greyson didn’t have much to talk about. Apparently, kids his age did go to school. But that meant that Laina had lied to him. Greyson hadn’t seen any of the shows or have any of the toys that Marion did, so Marion spent most of the time telling him about them, and about his Mami’s farm and his best friend Ephri and how they’d go ice skating together. 

Then Ben found them. 

Well, sort of. Marion heard his name, shouted in the distance. He’d given a quick goodbye and told Greyson he hoped his sister was alive, then he darted off across the field. 

When he found his father (who was suitably panicked for a man who’s son had just walked out the door) Marion told him all about the boy under the slide named Greyson, but he said I could call him Grey, and his sister got stuck in a house fire so he’s waiting for her to come find him.

Ben, obviously, asked Marion to show him this new friend. Marion grinned and guided his father under the playset. Ben was much more worried about this boy with soot on his face and his clothes, wrapped in a thin sweatshirt with melted gloves, his shoes in equal tatters. 

“Hey… hey, what are you doing here? It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you…” Dear god, the kid looked like he’d just stood in the middle of a bonfire and come out unscathed. He moved to lift Greyson up, but the boy cried out and pushed himself back. 

“Don’t touch me! Bad things happen to people who touch me, my skin makes bad things happen to people…” 

“What sort of things?” 

“They go to sleep for a long, long time, and Daddy has to find them a bed to stay in until they wake up. He doesn’t like doing that. And he’s not here, anyway.” 

“Greyson, that’s your name…?” Grey nodded, tucking his hands further into his sleeves. 

“What else can you do, Greyson?” 

“I can make fire, like the stove. But I can’t control it very good. And Lai says I can jump real high. And I can hide better than anyone Lai knows. Or maybe she’s just bad at finding, but Daddy says he can’t see me either. He doesn’t like when I do that.” 

“Can you show me? Can you hide for me?” 

Greyson nodded, pushing himself a little farther from the two. Slowly, he flickered in and out of view, until he was solidly gone.

“Can you see me?” 

“No, not at all.” Ben breathed.

“Yeah, you are really good at hiding!”  
Greyson blinked back into view, smiling a little. “I told you! No one can find me.” 

“Listen, Greyson…” Ben had heard the firetrucks, and, well… he could see the smoke and the lights from here. “Why don’t we got back to my house, okay? We can get you cleaned up, and then we’ll go find your sister. Okay?” 

“But I told her I’d be at the park!” 

“Then we’ll know where to find her when we’re looking. C’mon, you need a bath.”

Greyson blinked, and looked slowly down at the black marks of ashe smeared into his knuckled round the tattered latex gloves, and then back up to where the two stood, the man with his silhouette glowing against the streetlamp behind him and the boy- Mari- clinging to his sweater and watching Greyson with a hopeful expression.

He look one last, long look behind him, out at the dark expanse of grass his footprints trailed from, and gave a quiet, ‘okay’, and crawled out from under the slide.

“Here.”

He startled a little as the man held out his hand- skittering from the touch and from realizing, suddenly, how big he was, but Ben was only holding out a pair of mittens, and after a moment or two of deliberation Greyson took them, quickly shelling off the grimy plastic remains he wore and switching them out. 

Marion moved forwards and clasped the hem of his father’s sweater tighter, rocking back and forth on his heels in a pleased manner before holding out his hand to Greyson to take over the thick, woolen scratchiness of the mittens.

“Let’s go home!”


	17. Day 16: (V) "Please come back"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marion needs a break. It turns into a bit more than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Marison break-up

“So you’re- you’re just. Leaving. You’re leaving.” 

“Just- for a couple days. To figure some things out.” Marion cupped Greyson’s cheek and tilted his gaze back. “Just for a  _ couple days,  _ do you hear me? I’m going to come back, and we’ll figure things out together. I’m not going to abandon you, Greyson.” 

“I  _ know that-  _ I… I know, Marion, but I’m still- scared. I need you, Mari…” 

A couple days turned into a week, into two, into a month. Marion hadn’t told Greyson where he was going. He’d just  _ gone,  _ and now Greyson had no hope of finding him.    
  
Lottë knew. Apparently, Lottë was still in contact with him, which was more than Greyson could say for himself. The last message he’d gotten from Marion was a ‘happy birthday, sorry I’m not there’, sent a day too late. 

Greyson hadn’t replied. He hadn’t sent anything after that- no questions about where he was, no pleading for his return, nothing.

He hadn’t had a happy birthday, anyway.    
  
Lottë still checked on him weekly. Most of the time, he was curled up in bed, or on the couch, in an old Columbia university hoodie doused in so much of Marion’s cologne it gave him a headache to smell. 

_ When’s he coming back,  _ Greyson asked every time. 

_ I don’t know,  _ she always answered. Even though she did know, and she knew that there wasn’t going to be a  _ coming back.  _

Greyson hovered over his phone. The last message in their conversation was Marion’s ‘happy birthday’, almost two weeks ago. 

_ Please come back,  _ he sent before he could persuade himself not to.    
  
_ Or at least tell me if you’re not planning to _

_ Please don’t keep me waiting _

_ If you’re going to end it then just end it _

Greyson tossed his phone onto the couch cushion in front of him, just to stop his fingers. 

Marion’s little typing bubble popped up a moment later. For one, beautiful moment, hope sparked in his soul.    
  
_ I’m not coming back. Not anytime soon. I’m sorry.  _

White-hot fury sparked from the ashes of his hope, almost as hot as his fire had been, when he still had it. Then horrible, terrible concern.    
  
_ Why? Are you hurt? Are you captive? Marion, tell me. _

Greyson’s grip could have shattered the phone if he didn’t control himself. 

_ No, none of that. I just… can’t anymore. Please move on without me. I’m not coming back to you.  _

Marion had never been this succinct, before. His words had always been beautifully poetic, a tapestry of emotion and bluntness that always meant exactly what Marion wanted it to. It wasn’t like that, now. Marion’s words weren’t singing to him. They were screaming, they were punishing, they were torturing him. 

_ Okay,  _ Greyson said, even though it was the last thing he wanted to say. Even though he wanted to plead for Marion to return, to explain to him  _ what,  _ and  _ why,  _ and how to fix it. 

Already, Greyson could feel his consciousness, his control, wavering. Feeling a headache coming on, he tossed Marion’s cologne into his emergency bag, along with the picture frame he’d turned face-down on his nightstand before someone else took over. 

When Greyson came back to himself, he was lying on the couch in Mick’s apartment, his shoes cautiously removed and set next to him along with his bag. His head was pounding. 

He let out a weak groan and shifted onto his side, his back to the room. The couch smelled like old pizza and body odor and something sweet. It was better than their bed, which didn’t smell like Marion anymore. 

“Fuck…” he mumbled    


Mick set a cup of coffee on the table next to him, which leaned to one side and would dump his mug off if he wasn’t careful. The coffee splatters on the carpet showed that it’d done that before. 

“I dunno what the  _ hell  _ you were on, crow-” 

“I wasn’t  _ on  _ anything, I don’t- I don’t do that. I… my boyfriend broke up with me. I guess. I must’ve run to the first safehouse my mind could conjure.”    
  
Mick settled themself on the arm of the couch as Greyson sat up. His shirt was wrinkled and his jeans were stiff. “You shouldn’t be here. You got pardoned, kid, the last thing you need is to get dragged back in’ta the business.” 

“You don’t think I know that? I-” Greyson squeezed his eyes shut. It was too  _ bright  _ in here.    
  
“I don’t know what to do… I’ve never had a… a free life, without him.” 

“...Why don’tcha run off? Like you were planning to?” 

“My probation officer-” 

“-Won’t matter when you’re far off in Europe or Asia or- or fuckin’ Australia. Get out of the country. Get out of the  _ continent.  _ Leave your damn boyfriend behind so that when he realizes how good ‘e had it, he’ll never be able to go back.” 

“...I can’t pay you for a passport.” 

“On the house, kid. Find your happy ending. God knows ya need one.” 


	18. Day 17: (R) Identity Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Euclidi decides it's time everyone knows his little hero.

Greyson’s back was rigid in the chair he was cuffed to. Ankles to the front legs, wrists to the back ones. Alex was ruthlessly efficient in her restraining. Greyson shifted his wrist. She’d done one of the cuffs up too tight, and it dug into his skin harshly.    
  
Euclidi had put his mask back on. Pressed the perfectly molded plastic over his eyes with all the grace and tenderness of a professional football player. The screen over his eyes had been replaced- instead of the high-tech material that had been designed both to keep rubble away and keep his eyes hidden, there was plain cloth. He couldn’t see.    
  
He could hear someone setting something up in front of him. A few shutter clicks. A faint clicking of settings adjusting.    
  
“A camera…?” 

“Very good, little hero. Do you know why I’ve got a camera?” 

Greyson heard the clicking stop as Euclidi paused to watch him. “Well, you’ve put my mask back on, so… I can only assume you’re going to out me, aren’t you? You’re going to make sure everyone in the world knows who I am.” 

“Well, almost. I’m going to make sure everyone in New York knows who you are.  _ They’ll  _ make sure everyone in the world does.”    
  
“Ah. The wonders of the media. Could you fix the left cuff? Alex fastened it too tight. I’m pretty sure she’s doing it on purpose.” 

Euclidi snorted, but came around to check if it truly was too tight, or if Greyson was just trying to find a last-ditch way out. Sure enough, his hand was beginning to tint purple. Euclidi unlocked the cuff to fix it.    
  
Greyson’s hand shot out to punch him, wherever he could reach, as hard as possible.    
  
That turned out to be his gut. 

“Motherfucker- Alex!” 

Alex must’ve been waiting outside the door at his beck and call, she got there so fast.    
  
“His hand- get his hand.” She nodded and grabbed his wrist to pin it behind his back, cuffing it back into place just as tight.”    
  
“Well, worth a shot.” He muttered under his breath. “It’s still too tight.” 

“Suck it up you piss-filled  _ pigeon-”  _ _   
_ _   
_ “Enough, Al. You can go.” She spat at Greyson’s feet before stepping out, slamming the door behind her.   
  


Euclidi sighed. “Hate to say she’s right, but you are just going to have to suck it up after that little stunt.    
  
Greyson said nothing, staring straight ahead at the camera (or appearing to. He couldn’t actually see it.) “...Where are you broadcasting? Times square?”

“Hijacking a couple news stations. But yes, three of them have a screen in Times square. I’m going to override all the sound systems down there too. Just to make sure they see.”    
  
“Fun. I hope you realize you’re not going to be able to hold them for long.”    
  
“Mm, that’s what Lot said. It’s not going to take me long, don’t worry.” He ruffled Greyson’s hair as he passed by to finish up with the camera.    
  
“Ready?” 

“If I say no, will you go on anyway?”    
  
“You know me too well, darling. Any second now…” Euclidi stepped in front of the camera, effectively blocking Greyson from view. For now.   
  
“Ah, lovely New York City! You all know me, I’m sure. Resident villain, scoundrel, evildoer, whatever you’d like to call me. I think I’ll skip the monologue- I’m confident you’d all rather know where your hero is, and I don’t love the sound of my own voice enough to give you one.” 

Euclidi stepped out of the way of the camera. It took a moment to focus on the bound, blind hero. His mouth was open slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t be sure of himself.    
  
“Pretty, isn’t he? All tied up for me.” Greyson shuddered. “I think you’ll find that your ever-so-alluring hero is… shall we say, missing something.”   
  
Footsteps. Shuffling fabric. A hand on his cheek. Greyson forced himself to resist the urge to jerk away. Or lean into it.    
  
“He’s nothing but a normal little human.” Euclidi sneered. “ You’re no hero, anymore. Do you think you deserve this mask?”

  
“I-” He hesitated. He didn’t deserve the mask, he knew he didn’t. But the city needed to see him confident, didn’t they? “I do. I think I do deserve the mask. I tried my damnedest. That’s all a hero can ever do, isn’t it?” He couldn’t feel eyes on him. Not any more than the two in the room, anyway. But he knew he was being watched, by thousands, if not millions. There was, what, 8 million people in NYC, Luther had said? At least half had to be watching.    
  
Well, clearly Euclidi didn’t think he deserved it. Or maybe he was playing it up for the camera. His hands danced over the edge of his mask.    
  
And then it was off. And he could see the camera- standing on a tripod in front of him. And he could see Euclidi. He was smiling that sick, exaggerated smile that Greyson had seen so many times before.   
  
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Friends and Enemies- Greyson Nicholas Calva. Your  _ beloved  _ hero. What do you have to say for yourself, Grey?”    
  
“I… I’m sorry, New York.”    
  
“I’m sorry.”


	19. Day 18: (R) Hostage Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Euclidi kidnaps Mick. Corvid isn’t happy- but he’s too much of a mess to put up a good fight.

A brick through a window wasn’t… exactly Euclidi’s style. It didn’t add up. The letter on the brick was clearly addressed to him, but it’d been thrown through Mick’s window. And the hole was much too large for a brick. And the glass shattered all over the floor wasn’t  _ actually  _ the pattern it’d be if a brick was thrown.    
  
Not that any of this mattered. The glass was bulletproof- courtesy of Witness Protection after they couldn’t convince Mick to leave. A brick couldn’t have gotten through unless it was fired from a cannon.    
  
So the glass had been broken through some other means, and the brick was planted. By who? Sure, he knew Mick was involved in some… unsavory business, but the government stayed out of their hair and they stayed out of the government’s. It wasn’t them, he was sure. 

All of these- these base deductions weren’t necessary, as he clenched the (signed) letter in his hands, but he went through them anyway. It was all he could do to keep from breaking down.    
  
Mick was gone.  _ Mick.  _ His Mick.

And the name on the letter read ‘Euclidi’. 

Hell, even if he hadn’t signed it, Greyson would have been able to tell it was him. He’d seen the looping half-cursive enough times to recognize it.    
  
_ Mick. Euclidi had Mick.  _ And, knowing his abhorrent adversary, his friend was probably already dead. 

The thoughts that plagued him as he zipped through the city the way only an invisible man could weren’t worries for Mick’s safety, rather… a sickening concern for how his own mental health would be affected when he found the body.    
  
And once he started thinking about it, he couldn’t stop. Euclidi wouldn’t have shot them point blank, no, he wasn’t that… plain.    
  
Would he find them strung up by their neck, spine snapped? By their wrists? Tortured to death? Stabbed? Or worse- what if he never found them at all?

The note, now shoved in a boot, had an address. Two, really, so he could only assume he was meant to find them in the alleyway between.    
  
The location turned out to be a run-down tattoo parlor and a diner that boasted a  _ B-  _ sanitary rating. The only place still open on the street was the gas station on the corner, but its glaring white lights hardly reached 30 feet from it, let alone down the street. 

And then he was alone.    
  
The alleyway was empty of life (save for a few bugs, probably, given the diner’s rating, but he wasn’t about to check.) 

Maybe… the roof?    
  
Greyson scrambled on top of the large trash bins and, his fingertips barely grasping the faint ledges between bricks (thank gods for gloves), managed to pull himself up. 

There was… nothing. He looked over at the other roof- the tattoo parlor. Nothing there, either, save for some vents. 

He tugged the note out from his boot and double-checked the address. This… should be it. They should’ve been here, they should’ve been  _ right here.  _

But before he collapsed in complete despair, he spotted it.    
  
He hadn’t seen it before, in the dark. At the end of the alleyway. A loose manhole cover. Of course.  _ Of course.  _ No one would find it if they didn’t know to look. 

Greyson practically flung himself off the roof to get down there. Every second he spent looking for them was a second too long. 

The ladder was too rusty to slide down, so he climbed down, step by step, as fast as humanly possible. 

At the bottom, he found… the sewers. The night vision in his mask kicked in, now that he was away from the street lights.    
  
The tunnels were damp and rancid-smelling. Greyson couldn’t imagine that Mick’s time in here so far had been pleasant. But any time spent around Euclidi was unpleasant on principle.    
  
Now, the question was left or right. 

He couldn’t very well search both passages, not in time- for he assumed there had to be a time limit. He should have brought a map. He should have messaged his team, so one of  _ them  _ could pull up a map and direct him. He hadn’t thought of that, though. He’d just run once he realized Mick was gone and Euclidi was responsible.    
  
Greyson went left. 

He didn’t bother making himself invisible as he rushed down the passageway, turning down random corridors, alongside the racing sewer water of New York City. Down here, they were down here somewhere. He  _ knew it.  _

But they weren’t. He couldn’t find them. And he didn’t remember the way back. Then he saw the foot prints. 

They were his own, of course- he recognized the heeled boot prints. What was important about them was that they were  _ there.  _ That meant that somewhere, in this maze of a sewer system, was another tangling set of footprints. Perhaps two.    
  
He hoped for two.

Greyson followed his steps back- losing the trail, every so often, and panic drenching his heart until he found it again. 

Until he was back under the alleyway where he’d started. Sure enough- another pair of prints, stretching off in the other direction. Only one pair…    
  
Worth a shot anyway. A ball of fire in his hand, he followed them in the dim light. They went on too far, down hidden passages and closed off tunnels. Wherever Euclidi took them, he wanted to make sure Greyson couldn’t get them out easily. 

Right before what seemed to be the umpteenth removed grate, Greyson had a- a feeling. A bad, bad feeling. Euclidi was close, he could tell.    
  
Greyson’s fire went out, and he went out along with it. The only sign of his presence became the quiet slosh of his boots in the water.    
  
Mick. He’d found Mick. Bound and secured into the stone brick floor with enough metal to restrict Greyson himself, let alone a subtle super like Mick.    
  
“My darling crow, surely you know your little silence trick hardly works anymore.” 

“...Worth a shot.” Greyson stepped out of the narrow tunnel and landed on the stone with a click. 

“What’s the ransom? What the  _ favor  _ you’re so desperate to wheedle out of me this time?” He attempted to approach his friend, but a strand of orange-ish rusted out metal pressed against his sternum before he could.

“Take a guess. You’re clever.”    
  
“Maybe so, but I’m not  _ up  _ for your games tonight. You took my friend. I want them back. Knowing  _ you,  _ you’re not handing them over without getting something in return. So what the  _ hell do you want?”  _ Greyson pushed against the metal still on his chest for emphasis. 

“Ooh, on edge tonight, are we? Give me your gloves.” 

“What?” 

“Your gloves. Give me your gloves, I’ll loosen your friend’s restraints and if you can get them out without burning or killing them, you’re free to go.” 

His throat tightened. “And if I can’t?”

“I get to watch you kill your friend. Win-win.” 

“...You sick motherfucker.” 

“Jeez, you really aren’t up for playing, are you? Normally you’re more creative than ‘sick’.” Euclidi said as he untangled a few strands of Mick’s bindings, and Greyson undid the velcro of his gloves around his wrists and tossed them at Euclidi’s head.    
  
Even with most of the metal gone or loosened, it’d still be a delicate line between freedom and death. Greyson stepped forward. “Mick…?”

“ ‘M alright, kid. Just a little banged up. Let’s get out of here, yeah?” 

“...yeah. Just… give me a second… let me… gods…” His hands hovered over the metal bindings. “I might… burn you. On accident. I just… can’t think of any other way to get you out of here.”

“As long as we both make it out alive, that’s fine. Whatever you need to do.” 

Greyson nodded, his hands hovering over the metal weaving around Mick’s left arm. “Wait. You’re left handed, right? I’ll start with your right so I get the hang of it first.” He shifted to the other side. 

He knew it’d take a lot of energy to melt the metal. That he might black out by the end of it. That Mick might too, from the pain, and then they’d both be dragged off by Euclidi. It wasn’t like he had any better options, though.    
  
He started towards Mick’s fingertips, flash melting the metal so it dripped onto the ground, bit by bit. It was when he got up to the crook of their neck that he started to have some problems.    
  
“Alright, look… I’m going to have to melt the metal around your collarbone so I can get your head free, but it’s probably going to drip down your skin and burn you. If it sets your clothes on fire, I can control that, but I can’t stop molten iron. I’m sorry.” 

“Just get it done with. At least I’ll have some cool scars by the end of it.” 

Their remark didn’t lighten the mood very much. 

He melted the iron rod twisted around their shoulder and throat. Sure enough, it caught their clothes on fire, but then it went deeper. As much as they would’ve liked to, Mick couldn’t stop the scream.    
  
Greyson cringed. Euclidi beamed. 

This went on for 45 agonizing, agonizing minutes, Greyson periodically melting the metal, then soothing the burns, then moving onto the next part. 

By the time he manage to get Mick out, they were in too much pain to stand. Greyson couldn’t catch them, without his gloves, so they just fell.    
  
Greyson himself was worn out. If Euclidi was expecting a fight after that, he was plain out of luck. 

Euclidi, who was  _ applauding.  _ “Oh, well done! Freed your friend!” 

“Can I have my gloves back so we can go?”    
  


“I never said you could. Take them back without these little things. Try not to let them die~!” Euclidi waved a little and headed off down one of the tunnels.   
  
He knew Greyson didn’t have the will to go after him. 

Instead, he tucked his sleeves over his hands and carefully, as to jostle wounds as little as possible, scooped up Mick to carry them out. 

It was a long way back to the precinct. 


End file.
